a beastskin is the devil's hide, a cautionary tale
by jules1013
Summary: A retelling of the folktale Bearskin. Set immediately after the season two finale and blatantly ignores the third season. Meant to be read as if your immigrant grandmother were telling you a tale from the old country.


Once there was a young man who knew only how to be a soldier. He had spent his short life protecting the vulnerable throughout countless battles, even winning The Great War against the Amber Eyed Devil. This young man, this soldier, always obedient to his general and loyal to his comrade, had given his life to his father and his soul to his brother. With his father slain and the enemy defeated, the young man did not know what to do. Suffering and lost, the young man still had one thing to ground him, the one thing that had always grounded him--his brother--whom he fought a losing battle for, yet salvaged one year in which to be with him.

---

Once too there was a younger man who struggled with his soldier's life, even though he was well suited for it, having grown up in the barracks. This younger man once tried to be a citizen but the impending war called him from this life and demanded that he become a soldier once again. And so this younger man left behind what he never could be, and fought along side his brother-soldier until both he and his enemy were destroyed. Both devil and soldier gone, only one came back, for the first young man, the older brother, could not bear life with both of his reasons for living spent.

With the war waged and the Great Amber Eyed Devil vanquished, the younger man still could not give up soldiering once his life was returned to him. There were still battles to be won, citizens to defend, but mostly the younger man knew his brother could not be a lone soldier. The younger man also knew his brother would trade his very soul to have his brother-in-arms with him, if only for one year longer. The younger man could not give up his brother so easily, yet knew his brother would resist any efforts of undermining a devil's deal.

So secretly the younger man vows without knowing how or when, while still he and his brother soldier continuing battles against the darkness.

---

One day when at a crossroads, the younger brother found himself summoned by a demon, instead of the other way round.

_You wish to save your brother,_ enticed the demon.

However tempted the younger man was, he knew the demon was trying to trick him. _I will not give you my soul,_ the younger man struggled to say.

_If not your soul, what are you willing to trade for your dear brother, who gave so much for you?_ sneered the demon, its face suddenly ugly.

_My life,_ answered the younger man without any hesitation.

_I could have that now if I wanted and still keep your brother's soul. Do better,_the demon replied.

The younger man struggled. He was willing to trade anything for his brother, but could not say so.

In his silence the demon smiled, _Since you will not give me your soul outright, then why don't we make a wager? If you can keep away from your brother for one year, at the year's end I will not come for his soul. But if you fail to keep your distance, _your_ soul too will be mine._

The younger man knew the demon was hiding something but he could not refuse. Still he was afraid, knowing his brother would not stay away from him, knowing that his brother would spend his last year searching for him. Yet it was his only chance.

As if hearing the younger man's inner thoughts the demon said, _Your brother will not know where to look._ At the younger man's confusion, the demon stepped aside to reveal a very large, very angry beast emerging from the shadows.

_We all borrow a skin in order to walk this land--_

_I am no creature like you._

_Not yet._ The demon smirked as the shadow took solid form.

_For one year you are to avoid your brother and all humankind by clothing yourself in this pelt._The snarling creature stepped closer. _You will take shelter only from this fur and take food only from these jaws. If you are fed or harbored, your body will remain in this skin for eternity while your soul resides in hell with me. Do we have an agreement?_

The younger man never took his eyes from the monster and felt no hesitation as he answered, _Yes._

At his words the hellhound collapsed, leaving behind only its skin.

The demon, its eyes alight, stepped closer. _One year,_ it said through the clashing of teeth. All at once the demon was gone, disappearing as quickly as it had advanced.

His mouth free, _one year,_ the younger man said quietly. Slowly, he knelt to the ground and lifted the skin, still smelling of sulfur.

---

Worried, the older brother searched, drawn to the crossroads out of that fearful knowing.

The young man could smell the beastskin, present in its absence. Stronger still was the scent of the old skin, the human skin, left behind in plaid and denim and cotton. He knelt, fingers tangled in the almost-warm fabric.

_It came for him,_ The young man thought, his body shaking in his failure. _I have one year!_ he condemns the darkness, before breaking.

Whatever else was said, it cannot be told, for the older brother's voice was overcome with anguish and his body twisted in despair, such that the only sounds made are not discernable except to those who have lost and find themselves left behind.

---

It itched. The skin felt wrong, too loose and too damp, its rotten slick forming a rash upon the younger man's skin, his real skin.

_The hide is but a mask,_ the younger man assured, _I am being tested and I will pass._

---

The first time was the worst. This was especially true because the younger brother did not understand the call. He trudged, his skin a frenzy itch, weighing upon him, dragging not down but forward. The younger man slumped into his new skin, knowing nothing but settling into step.

At first the younger brother was frightened, the new skin persuasive but his old skin screaming _caution,_ out of remembrance of life as a soldier. Still the paws trudged forward, ears down despite the demon song.

He was middle-aged but his terror made him older, weaker. The younger brother could see the whites of his eyes, could smell the salt along his hairline. The forms surrounding the terrified man made the younger man crouch, leery of eyes that were not trained on him. Suddenly, one of the forms lunged, the shadow becoming fur, the threat becoming teeth. Immediately other shadows followed, giving way to substance as fear gripped and illusion tore.

The younger man lurched, tendons in all four legs tight, the skin eager despite himself.

_This skin is but a cloak_ the younger man said.

---

The second time was also the worst, because it was the first as well.

Her lips were stained into a hard, horrible line. The bruises swallowing her eyes could not mask her resignation, the exhaustion in her shoulders having nothing to do with sleep. She did not scream and perhaps that made easier; she was a rag-doll of bone, the plaything of this skin, and the younger man thought that if he held her gently, she might not break.

_This pelt is but a penance,_ the younger man whispered.

---

The older brother spends what remains of his year hunting the thing that took his brother. He does not ask why the demon has not reappeared to make good on their broken deal, he does not question why the hellhounds he tracks are not tracking him.

---

The next time is easier because there is only ever the next.

The skin calls and it answers, and the younger man finds himself in the darkness before he even realizes that is where he set out.

The other skins are there, but he is always outside, always distanced. Their hides are real and as such they could smell the younger man between the folds of both fleshes. They allow him because skin can only ever answer to habit.

_This flesh is not my flesh,_ the younger man growls.

---

This time is the first time in a long time that the younger brother feels.

Usually he is idle within the skin, a ghost inside the mechanistic flesh, a puppet inside the master. The jaws tear of their own accord, the feet travel between hell and their charge by their own violation, the way both known and unknown.

But this time is different. He does not feel the bullet graze along his shoulder, but rather this allows him to feel the flesh between the teeth, _his teeth_, warm and alive and real. The jaws release and the movement feels like his own.

The others descend when younger man abandons her, the soldier having no chance of saving the woman from the sheer number of beasts and the sheer force of her contract. He is persistent but the others ignore him in favor of their task.

When they begin their downward trek, the younger brother follows. His real self gives a twitch in remembrance and his beast skin itches but his legs won't stop.

---

The last time should be the hardest but it feels like the easiest.

The younger man's skin itches and recoils but the man inside the skin yearns and keens. Still, the older brother's gun would not have wavered if _it_ did not disrupt the shot.

_You broke our deal_ the demon indulges, stepping from between them.

The older brother is indignant, claiming _one year, you broke_ and _bitch._ It ignores the him, its eyes trained on the beastskin.

_You lose_ it rasps.

The itch unbearable, the younger brother feels the pelt loosen, his own skin raw and cold in the space in between.

_This is not my skin,_ the younger man proclaims, voice emerging from the depths in which it has so long been captive.

The older brother lowers his gun as the hide collapses to the ground.

_Sam--_

_That skin was a mask, my penance for your soul,_ the younger man's voice gravel.

_You have broken our deal._ It speaks of the younger brother but rounds upon the older, _and in doing so, you have fulfilled_ our _deal._

As if the demon were not there, the older brother steps forward and takes his brother by the hand, his rough palm real and affirming against raw, chafed tissue. _This is your skin, Sammy, you are my flesh._

The younger man trembles, his exposed flesh itching at the echoes of a call felt but not heard.

_They smell you,_ the demon boasts, _--they hear the call of our contract._

The older straightens, his skin secure in his brother's.

_C'mon, Sammy_. And they walk, the younger man's feet still sensing the way.

_Perfect,_ It jeers, _two souls for the price of one!_

And they walk, as penance for their love, hands curled firmly into one another. _This is our skin,_ the younger brother says, _in this we are safe._


End file.
